My life Part X: Rolling with the punches
So far, Barbara and I had enjoyed a smooth ride. Our engagement, marriage, and honeymoon were great. I started to say, "went off without a hitch," but we were hitched. Anyway, since our honeymoon was close to where my mother lived, we swung by to have a day or two visit there in Willow Springs.
The good people of First Baptist Church had a shower for us and we racked up on gifts. I had written in my journal that we had $700 from all of the showers and envelopes received at the wedding.
Getting married was a lot like starting college. It is all fun at first and most folks are patting you on the back and slipping you cash. Sooner or later though, classes begin and the pressure of term papers and midterm exams loom. I didn't know it yet, but the fun was about to be laced with a few sucker punches from life.
The Home Mission Board had sent my file to a church in the Toledo, Ohio area. I phoned them from my mother's house and we decided it made more sense to drive from Missouri to visit them than to drive back to New Orleans and fly up there.
We weren't really dressed or prepared for winter weather, but we forged ahead anyway. On a Thursday I changed the oil in the car and studied road maps. Friday, February 25, 1983 we headed across Illinois, Indiana, and into Ohio. It began snowing just outside of Dayton and we stayed there for the night.
Saturday morning we got up and drove the remaining three hours to Toledo. Actually we were in a small town outside of Toledo, but I am withholding the name to protect the innocent.
Our directions took us to the preacher’s house and after sandwiches for lunch, he drove us to a church member's home who would be putting us up for the weekend. She was a nice lady and drove us around the area to help us get a lay of the land.
On Sunday, I would preach the morning sermon and we would be interviewed by their mission committee. This was all standard operating procedure for the hiring process.
My journal reads for Sunday, February 27, 1983; "Today seemed as though it would never end." I was up at 6:00 AM and studied a bit for the morning sermon. We went to church and attended Sunday School. I don't remember much about the sermon, but I did use my previously mentioned favorite text in Matthew 14:14. It was the perfect four point message. Jesus went forth; He saw a great multitude; He was moved with compassion toward them; and He healed their sick.
Have you ever spoken in front of a group and not felt received? That is how I felt preaching there. Normally, when you preach a sermon, there is a give and take with the congregation. An "amen" or two is nice, a chuckle after an attempt at a joke is considered polite, but these folks didn't do that. They were stoic and their silence was interpreted by me as disagreement or even disapproval. Maybe I was insecure, but maybe I was reading them correctly. The following events of the day would make it all too clear.
Lunch was at a cafeteria type restaurant and we were in a large group. Besides Barbara and I were the pastor and his wife, the lady who was putting us up, and the mission committee. I didn't eat much, but I should have, because I was in for the "Spanish Inquisition" of my life.
One of the hallmarks of the Southern Baptist Convention throughout history is their diversity. Theologically, there was no dogma or articles of faith to which everyone must agree. Instead they had a document entitled "The Baptist Faith and Message." The document was written in 1925 and has been through several revisions.
It summarizes key Southern Baptist thoughts in the areas of the Scriptures (i.e. Bible) and their authority, the nature of God as expressed by the Trinity, the spiritual condition of man, God's plan of grace and salvation, the purpose of the local church, ordinances, evangelism, Christian education, interaction with society, religious liberty, and the family. Source: Wikipedia
The beauty of it all was people could gather together not on the basis of a narrow view of God and the Bible, but on a much broader scale. Baptists were about doing things in their communities and in the world. We had a view of missions that, not only sought to tell people about Jesus, but to help them materially. Baptists had missions and ministries all over the world that fed the hungry, clothed the naked, healed the sick, and taught the children. The idea was to look at the larger picture of going out into the world more than policing the thoughts of individual Baptists.
The folks at this little church in Ohio saw it differently. They were separated from the community (sinners). There was a clear delineation for everything; no gray areas. You were right or you were wrong and they knew which one they were. Their minds were made up and did not want to entertain any new ideas. Why should they? If you know the truth, what else is there?
Here is another portion of my journal from that Sunday in February 1983:
After lunch, we drove to the mission and we were interrogated. It was miserable and on top of all of that, the building was freezing. To make a long story short, they were more like Independent Baptists. They were pious, arrogant, and strict separationists. They saw rock music as evil, the Bible was inerrant, the Second Coming according to Hal Lindsey, and if you did not believe exactly like them you were wrong, evil, bad, and a heathen. Barbara and I were made to feel like heathens. The ordeal went on for two and a half hours.
Barbara and I sat facing the mission committee on the dais, which was as close as we could get to the heating ducts. The outside temperature in the daytime was only 20 degrees and the heat had been turned off in the church. It had to be in the low 30’s in that building.
The questions started out in a familiar way. I had debated and argued as sport in seminary. It was a good way to understand your own views on different topics and issues. I had argued with fundamentalists and this was another of those debates.
The difference was that these folks could give me a job. Do I tell them what they want to hear? Do I tell them what I really think? I tried at first to ride the fence. I wanted to answer the questions in a way to set them at ease, but not misrepresent my views.
It didn’t work.
They persisted in the questioning to the point I took the gloves off and said exactly what I thought about my opinion and theirs. I was respectful, but I wasn’t going to roll over.
It was nerve racking and I knew Barbara was uncomfortable. She was freezing and arguments tend to make her nervous. One of the lines of questioning that stands out is this one:
Them: What do you think about Christian rock music?
Me: Do you mean groups like the Imperials?
Them: I don’t know their names. (He said it as though I had accused him of frequenting a gentlemen’s club.)
Me: I like it. It was one of the things that got me thinking about God in the first place and ultimately led me to the church and now the ministry.
Them: Then you don’t think it has a demonic beat?
Me: Huh? Demonic beat? I think what makes music good or bad is the words, not the tune.
You get the idea. The questions were loaded. They wanted me to recite the party line back to them. I knew their party line and didn’t agree with it so I couldn’t give them what they wanted. In return they gave me their scorn and we were looked down on as those educated idiots from seminary.
They also questioned me extensively about my eyesight. They asked ridiculous questions having to do with day-to-day tasks. I was waiting for them to hold up their hand and ask me how many fingers they were holding up.
I later learned that the pastor complained to the Home Mission Board about sending a handicapped person for the position, but that is another story.
Journal entry:
After the questioning, we went to another church member's house for cake. Back to church and more talk, finally by 1:00 AM we were in bed. I was convinced this was not the place for us.
I guess this was another blow to my idealism and naiveté. I figured the important thing was the work, but not at that place with those people. I was sad, not just because the job wasn't going to work out, but because I saw it as an unnecessary waste of time. Folks spend so much time bickering about minute details most people couldn't care any less about.
When Jesus walked the earth He was always blowing folks like that out of the water, but they persist nevertheless. It is one thing to have a difference of opinion or another theological view, but it is altogether different to look down your nose at the person holding that viewpoint.
The next day we couldn't get out of there fast enough. We drove to Florence, Kentucky just outside of Cincinnati, Ohio. I really didn't want to spend another night in Ohio. It was just a thing then. Today I hold no ill will toward the great state of Ohio.
We settled into our hotel room with some cokes and a nice warm Pizza Hut pizza and enjoyed the last episode of M*A*S*H on television. It was the end of the program's eleventh season and at the time, was the most watched single episode of a television program ever. Do you remember where you were during the last episode of M*A*S*H?
So life threw me a sucker punch. I would guard against that one the next time. Little did I know, there were more punches on the way. Left hooks and uppercuts I couldn't imagine, but Barbara and I rolled with each one of them. Somehow we survived, but it was a joint effort of our deeds, God's grace, and a lot of help from friends and benevolent strangers.
Looking through my journal about those days it is like my own version of the poem Footprints in the Sand. Problems would come, but solutions would too. I see it more clearly now than I did even at the time, but God was there; He always has been; He always will be.
Until the next time
John Strain